Vermillion's Blindfold
by Danny Atramentum
Summary: While wandering the desert in pre-Calamity Hyrule, the merchant Beetle comes across a strange Gerudo man, and the pair discuss the nature of the Triforce.


Silence—Nayru's Wisdom—lest the mind's enigma be laid bare by perfunctory discourse.

"Tá'sac." Used here, Beetle knew, as a Gerudo portmanteau of "honorable" and "merchant," though his desert wanderings had made him wise enough to know that the phrase used as a whole rather insinuated a derogatory version of its individual parts. It was the first word spoken by the man whose hair was fire—the deep, guarded tone revealing nothing, and everything.

"Tell me," continued the man whose face was shadow. He reached for one of Beetle's durians and palmed it as a curious child would a soft peach, unperturbed by the kingly fruit's violent thorns. "Wouldst though consider this to be in season?"

Beetle cast his eyes downward and bowed slightly to emanate respect. "'Tis not what I consider, my Lord, which matters. Nor—as you suggest—even the season. Such mercantile axioms are but the fickle tools of inexperienced traders. In fact," he continued, raising his gaze to meet the stare of the man whose eyes were daggers, "it is not even the fruit's own ripeness that determines its readiness for sale. Rather, judgment of suitability is the realm of the buyer alone."

A temperate breeze stirred the lethargic sand around them, time arrested as untold mechanisms whirred in the man whose mind was abyss. "Seek thee not greater power over thy own fate?"

Beetle smiled, a light sigh complimenting his humble reply. "Alas, such luxury is not due me. Only ruin awaits the overzealous, much as a greedy vine inevitably strangles its arboreal host. As such, I humbly resign myself to reading life's current, for to pretend the ocean's creation invites being swallowed by the waves. As is said in Lost Woods," Beetle continued, a hint of traveler's pride seeping through, "the Great Deku takes nourishment from Korok ashes, yet it never seeks to burn the forest."

A glare of intrigue—quizzical, not yet disapproving—from the man whose robes were midnight. Replacing the heavy durian, he posed a counter. "And what if thou possessed greater power?"

"Greater power begets not finer fortune; rupees alone guard not against a blind king's usurpation."

Disappointment?, perhaps dejection from the man whose question was unanswered. "Please," he sighed, "thou knows I speak not of wealth."

Gentility from the merchant. "Apologies, my Lord. Avaricious intent I often assume of those who make such inquiries. Nonetheless," Beetle's gaze grew ominous, "my reply remains the same."

"Thou dost not believe in power?"

"Contrarily, power is quite real—stronger and sturdier than the stones of Hyrule Castle. But lacking guidance power is but a bombchu leased in a labyrinth. The explosion is certain, but whether it reveals a passageway is impossible to determine. More probably the result is destruction."

Pause—the man whose hands were thief's glanced briefly at his own. If only physical extremities could grasp the existential. "Then power is meaningless?"

"Not so. Power is what bids lava flow from Eldin's mouth. It drives Zora fins, Rito wings, and Sheikah engines alike. All things require power to survive and thrive—from leaping crickets to momentous revolutions. But power is merely directional—a means for achieving ends, the ability to carry out action. For power to carry meaning—"

"—It needs more."

Exploration—Farore's Courage—what future revealed by upturned Schrodinger stones?

Approaching convoys mandated—perhaps thankfully—a momentary postponement of conversation. Beetle peddled his wares as the man whose path was ceaseless took rest on a makeshift stool. Later, watching the travelers disappearance over the horizon, cursory small talk breathed new life into critical discussion.

"So, Tá'sac,"—said here with sincerity, former disrespect acknowledged, regretted, and now shrugged—"wherefore bound are thee?"

"I intend delve further into shifting sands," Beetle replied. "Barren landscapes seldom fail yield untold wealth, provided, of course"—a wry, spidering smile—"buried treasure transcends the worldly."

An understanding nod from the man whose home was desert. "Truth well spoken."

Breaths of wild aridity blustered desolate soliloquies as Din's celestial fire crawled its auburn descent.

"You make for Hyrule, my Lord?"

A start from the man whose habit was solitude.

Patronly chuckle escaped Beetle. "Please, withdraw your consternation. Though my purview oft eschews presumption, easterly longings so amaranthine practically invite such elementary conjecture."

The man whose gaze was longing resumed study of sunset shadows. "Indeed, it is there I seek my fate."

Concerned puzzlement from the merchant. "Seeking fate is poor semantics. Fate is future—like twine, unraveled simply by moving forward. Seeking fate is directionless energy, power sans purpose, honest motivation plagued by a dearth of tangible denouement."

Dejection clouded the man whose heart was knots, but stoic determination ensured the emotion's brevity. "Very well. If power I possess, I seek the means to control it."

"You seek, as I do my Lord, to read ocean currents—to anticipate fate's path."

"Yes!" exclaimed the man whose aura was omnipotence—stolid composure betrayed by excited discovery.

"Then permit me attempt elucidation," bowed Beetle's graceful acquiescence as he moved to sit cross-legged at his pupil's feet.

A breath in… A breath out… Merchant transcending into reverent sage, Sheikah religion guiding Beetle's gentle hands as they traced angular lines into the ground. Were the teacher's wisdom lesser, he would have stolen an obvious glance at hands of the man whose secret was bare, but clever minds need not speak loudly their extent.

"Legend speaks of three Goddesses, Hyrule's Governesses—nature's ethereal Guardians incarnate; each Representative of one earthly force—one tenet of fate."

Sandy sketches intimated golden triangles—the Triforce. Beetle indicated its bottom left.

"Farore—courage, Her what inspires green tunics quest, bids Rito fledglings plunge cliffside seeking flight. The emerald dragon Farosh—without which exists but idle inaction, indefinite pause, fate never begun."

The man whose understanding was new repeated succinctly. "Courage—what begets action."

"Further," noted Beetle, "a blessing likely bestowed my Lord. Desert crossings, grand Hyrulian visions—monumental endeavors whose initial footprints already lie effaced by migrating dunes. However," he continued, "Farore's kiss is but one heavenly touch. Goddess the second," Beetle gestured toward the Triforce's peak, "Din—power. Her what permits Shiekah their enduring meditation, fuels Epona's ceaseless gallop. The ruby dragon Dinraal—history's propellant, without which fate dies but smoldering embers. And, I suspect," Beetle paused, eyes not straying from his Triforce, "my Lord's titanic virtue."

Alabaster sculptures stand not so still—profound revelations paralyze perfectly. But celestial force allows not indefinite pause, and Beetle's hands rested slowly on the final triangle.

"Finally," he spoke, "the Goddess Nayru. Wisdom. Destiny's Seer—acuity's luminous Keeper. Dost my Lord doubt spring's nightshade bloom, the setting sun o'er Gerudo's skeletal leviathan? No. Such unequivocal truth only fools and false prophets deny. Likewise, Nayru's infinite vision looks beyond falsity—eschewing all but universal eventuality, her what illuminates forest paths, sees beggars rise and rulers fall alike. Foresight—Dragon Naydra's sapphire blessing. Her most quintessential realm dooms all its heretics indiscriminate failure."

"Please, Tá'sac. Thou expresses obvious favoritism."

"Apologies, my Lord—refrain oft proves futile in praising my most beauteous Muse. Nonetheless," Beetle wiped clean his illustrations and stood to meet the man whose glare was Judgment, "even objective worshippers acknowledge Nayru's subtle realm as paramount."

"You claim the Goddesses unequal?"

Introspection. Beetle's eyes sought stars not yet visible by evening light. Meticulously considered, Beetle's eventual response rang finality. "Yes. Yes, my Lord, I do."

Masked astound, but swift reproach from the man whose wrath was daemon. "Tá'sac,"—disrespect intended—"I find offensive the suggestion of pantheonic imbalance, moreso considering arrogant presumption of Nayru's superiority."

Servile, but stern. "Twas my Lord's inquiry prompted genuine response."

The man whose frustration was consumption roiled, unaccustomed parley of Beetle's raconteurish degree. "Honest theology cannot deny Din's power."

"And disagree I do not, but my Lord mistakes my intentions. True, Din's dominant quintessence is indisputable—She is boundless, effervescent potential. But to what end? I repeat—directionless energy, unbridled vigor is a stallion without reigns, ebb without flow, arrows launched helplessly against vanishing wizrobes. Din is power, unquestionably, but not power over oneself. Absence of wisdom's Goddess yields blind catastrophe. Without Nayru, my Lord, one only pursues—."

"Enough!" Uproarious impatience. The man whose word was final stood, interrupting and definitively waving aside the merchant's desperate warning. "I tire of thee, of thy pagan's ramblings. Thou boasts interpretation of Hyrule's tides—'tis lies! Hyrule sweeps thee aside—thy prophetic pretendings but meekly acceptance of lowly status. Thy 'wisdom' merely resigns thee to forgotten destitution."

"My Lord—"

"I bade thee silent, Tá'sac! Spare me further pestilence and permit me leave in peace!"

For a moment Beetle hesitated, contemplating, wondering whether additional, desperate teaching might resurrect his corrupted pupil. But alas, as the Ocarina's song of healing served only to delay Majora's lunar plummet unto Termina, so too would further argument only subvert Beetle's motives.

And so it was that Beetle watched, helplessly, as the stranger's obsidian cloak became but a speck on the desert horizon. Oh benevolent Goddesses, do bless yon humble merchant. Though moonrise may efface his words, let their meaning be whispered by the sand. Though history's tomes may forego his mention, let his fingerprints still stain the pages. Though lost strangers may ignore his wisdom, let it never be said that this humble merchant didn't try to save Hyrule's fragile kindom from the power of the Man whose fate was Ganon.

Truth—Din's Power—for what was, is, will be, cannot be otherwise, ad infinitum.


End file.
